I chuckle. “The good old days.”
That one-liner strikes my friend silent for a beat too long. “There are still good days to come, Beau.”
“Of course, I know.” I sigh, wanting to end this call before it veers into territory I’m not ready for.
“Is there a reason we’re pulling one over on Cade? Planning on telling me where you’ll be if you aren’t dancing for me or giving my car a jump?”
“Thanks, man. Talk later.” I forge ahead quickly before hanging up.
And then I head straight for where the best part of my day always is.
The place that I’ve come to associate with both peace and purpose.
The stool at the end of Bailey Jansen’s bar.
4
Beau
Rhett: Thank you for coming to the wedding.
Beau: Of course. Where else would I have been?
Rhett: Great question. No one knows where you hang out anymore. Only that you disappear and talk to no one.
Beau: I talk to people.
Rhett: You can talk to me too. You know that, right?
Beau: Of course. I know that. Congratulations, the wedding was beautiful. I’m very happy for you and Summer.
Rhett: Thanks. Love you, Beau-Beau. You doing okay? Like really?
Beau: Yeah, I’m great.
“Have you ever had anal sex?”
As Bailey’s sugary voice cuts through the loud music at The Railspur, I spray hot tea from my mouth. My attempt to cover it with my palm only results in me getting soaked. Hot water drips down my forearm and lands on my lap. Pretty sure my eyes have popped right out of their sockets onto the wooden bar top that separates me from sweet, quiet little Bailey Jansen.
Sweet, quiet little Bailey Jansen, who I now spend a good three to four nights a week around.
Sweet, quiet little Bailey Jansen, who just asked me about anal sex like she was asking about whether I take cream in my coffee.
She tosses a rag onto the bar. “Clean that up.”
Only Bailey would tell me to clean it up rather than do it herself. That’s what I’ve come to realize about her on these nights I’ve spent sitting at her bar.
That’s what I like about her.
She’s not a kiss ass, she’s not a pushover, and she doesn’t tiptoe around me.
She also might not be as sweet and quiet as I thought.
In a world that feels horribly boring and mundane, Bailey Jansen has proven to be incredibly interesting.
That’s why I keep coming back. It’s more than just worrying about her being alone.
“Why are you asking me about anal sex?” I mumble as I wipe the bar top and dab off my arm. “And so loudly. People are going to get the wrong idea.” I turn, looking around to see if anyone else heard.
Her lips twitch where she stands at the tap pouring a pint, those dark chocolate irises slicing my way from beneath the fringe of her lashes. “People already have the wrong idea about me, Beau.”
She turns away, walking down the narrow space behind the bar to the red-haired guy who sits at the opposite end, phone in his hands, eyes down. “Here ya go, Earl,” Bailey announces, tossing down a coaster and then the beer on top.
He glances at her but doesn’t say thank you. And it irks me.
When she turns back to face me, her eyes are wide, lips drawn back in a cringe. She walks straight at me, holding my gaze, her hips swaying.
She and I have fallen into a comfortable rhythm in the last couple of weeks. One where we talk while I pretend I don’t notice how fucking beautiful she is for fear of becoming the weird old creeper who sits here all night.
She props her forearms against the bar right in front of me, a conspiratorial grin on her face. I try not to stare at her breasts pressed against the thin cotton of the frilly off-the-shoulder peasant top she’s wearing. But the shimmer in her eyes or the gloss on her lips aren’t any less distracting.
“Earl only comes in now and then,” she says, flashing white teeth as she peeks back over her shoulder. “But when he does, he always watches porn on his phone. And it’s always anal. I just wasn’t sure how common it was. You know?”
“He does what?” Alarm bells sound in my mind. I do not know how she can joke about this asshole.
“You heard me.” Her lips roll together like she’s trying to bite back a laugh, and my eyes follow the motion.
“That’s not funny, Bailey. He’s watching porn and looking at you. In public.”
She rolls her eyes. “As opposed to in private?”
“He’s looking at you.” The muscles in my back tighten. “Thinking about you.”